


written all over your face (x2)

by fletcherenns



Series: oh, so much déjà vu [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, M/M, Multi, PWP without Porn, Road Trip Era, demisexual henry but it's vague, gansey is very repressed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 08:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30136593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fletcherenns/pseuds/fletcherenns
Summary: Then he realised he had to come to terms with the fact that Henry’s very male musculature was equally as appealing as Blue’s, and then subsequently acknowledge the knowledge that perhaps his entire cardiovascular system had ahabitof throwing itself outside of his body and leaving Gansey to go barreling after it.One at a time first,they’d suggested.aka blusey/chengsey/sarchengsey navigate the technicalities involved in the whole 'homies-you-kiss-sometimes' situation
Relationships: Henry Cheng/Richard Gansey III, Henry Cheng/Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent
Series: oh, so much déjà vu [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2176710
Kudos: 19





	written all over your face (x2)

**Author's Note:**

> well. incomplete but its been in the drafts since jan so i might as well post it. sarchengsey nation i carry you on my back 
> 
> title's from telepatia by kali

They’d said it gently, easing him into it with all the grace of dunking a stone under icy water. That was not quite true, actually, Gansey was certain they had carefully chosen their words and phrases. Regardless, a larger part of his brain had been immensely distracted by the contrast of Blue’s brown-tanned-browner strawberry speckled leg, pressed against the milky-smooth length of Henry’s modelling calf. Absurdly, he had wondered if he’d notice the difference through texture alone. 

Then he realised he had to come to terms with the fact that Henry’s very male musculature was equally as appealing as Blue’s, and then subsequently acknowledge the knowledge that perhaps his entire cardiovascular system had a  _ habit  _ of throwing itself outside of his body and leaving Gansey to go barreling after it. One at a time first, they’d suggested, _ we’ve talked about this extensively, Richard-man _ and _ Gansey close your mouth before you start drooling on the floor _ respectively.

Technically, it’s a good idea. It gives them the leeway to see how they fit individually, whether they even enjoy each other, and so on and so forth. The very idea of Henry and Blue alone, free to explore, had been remarkably effective in convincing him. But Gansey almost -almost- regrets it now, because being the sole victim of Henry Cheng’s sharp gaze and sharper eyebrows is well on its way into inducing cardiac arrest(again). Blue is different, hard in her words but soft with her body - she’s familiar in the deep-way of something he’s already catalogued. True Love, labelled in section 75, right below Tapestry but slightly higher than Welsh Royalty. 

Henry has still not been through the paperwork, so all that he can do, really, is throw himself into his favourite process: note taking and analysis. Litchfield House’s prince is effortlessly attractive in a way that is more than the ‘just-walked-off-a-shoot’ energy he owns. Cheng, flawed only purposefully and superficially because natural decay is incapable of approaching him. Henry, with his gently impassioned insistence on honesty and righteousness and honour. He thinks that if he were a king, that is exactly what he’d want of his best knight.  _ You’d want your knight to cuck you?  _ says a suspiciously Ronan-like thing in his head, and this time Gansey purposefully ignores the way his cheeks heat at the thought.

They’re sitting cross-legged across from each other in a Bed and Breakfast that Gansey sincerely hopes has been sanitised prior. The bed is old, but solid, and if he ignores the clothes strewn about the room it could be 1983 or 2004 or 2025 and maybe it is. Time exists in all spaces, and here it is again - the slipping, minutes or hours. He digs his heels in even as the sand settles into a landslide. What he  _ wants  _ to do is be here, in his own skin and time. Henry, blessedly, has always been particularly good at accomplishing that. 

Cheng places a hand on his bare knee, right at the edge of his shorts, and Gansey’s relatively certain that he’s at a normal human temperature, so there’s no way to explain how each of the long fingers burn against his skin. It’s suddenly very hard to think, and he swallows, distracted once again by the intensity in Henry’s eyes. “ _ Gansey _ ,” he breathes, and it hits like how he expects a tequila shot might, because Just Gansey is rare enough out of Henry’s mouth, but impossibly so when he says it so low, close enough that he can feel the overwhelming vanilla scent on his tongue. “You okay?” He understands, now, why Blue’s eyes gleam whenever he substitutes Jane for her real name.

He realises he’s been holding his breath, and so he exhales, shifts so that his fingertips can follow a vein that juts out prettily along the back of Cheng’s hand. The other boy shivers, just a little, but presses on. “Where do you want to go?”

It strikes him as a strange sort of question. Go, metaphorically? Go, in general? Go, in terms of longitude and latitude? Go, like - sexually? The very idea of trying to answer makes him want to curl up with embarrassment, surely he knows this. The issue with Henry is that Gansey can never be sure what response is expected of him - no version of Gansey the Third fits quite right. He figures that may be exactly what Henry wants.  _ Gansey-like. _ The rightness of being known truthfully.

His limbs are looser now than they were, the soft rhythm of the other’s breathing evening out his own. “I am. I don't know." he hesitates, following the route to wrap his fingers around Henry’s slender wrists. "What do you want me to say?”

“‘Yes’, I hope. Because _ I _ would like to kiss you, Mister Campbell-Three. Though I cannot promise any impromptu deaths, if that’s what you seek out of firsts.” Gansey laughs, even if that stings just a bit, because Gansey is polite in company and because he kind of really would like to kiss Henry and he is struck by the savage curve of his megawatt smile. 

He whooshes the exhale through his teeth, and nods. 

It’s easier than he’d thought. Gansey’s not sure what he’d expected, but it is almost exactly like kissing Blue, down to the bone deep easiness. No awkward clacking of teeth, no  _ heart-stops-in-your-chest-but-literally- _ s. Muscle memory - like he’s done it before, or maybe he will again. Henry’s wrist is slack under his fingers, but he twists it so that he can hold Gansey’s right back. His left hand slides through the short hair right behind Gansey’s ear, gentle and pleasant - a far cry from the terrible sensation of crawling insects. 

Gansey opens his mouth in a sigh, and Henry takes the opportunity. 


End file.
